"Not your fault," I said. "I'm the one with more pride than common sense. Probably a good thing I never found the coffee and the grinder. I'd have probably taken my finger off trying to figure out how to use the thing."

Fraser had made a fresh pot of coffee for John and Charles, and he pointedly set a cup of coffee down in front of John, and we all had a good laugh at that. John and Charles insisted they were taking us out to lunch in town, but first we were going for a walk. I was okay with that - it was a nice day - but I was surprised when we didn't bring Niri. Niri didn't seem to care much for the idea of being left behind either.

"The idea is to get you walking normally again," John said. "After a couple months of lying in the hospital and then sitting around the house, you've gotten used to poking and shuffling along. If you took Niri out right now, you'd be a drag on her. So this walk's going to do double duty - Charles is going to be your guide dog today, let you start learning some commands while we get you up to speed."

Well, I got the picture pretty damned fast. Charles actually wore this harness thing like Niri would wear, and I held on to that. John and Charles were like drill sergeants or something, nagging at me to move along, faster, faster, faster, yelling at me to pick up my feet and not shuffle - found out the reason for that, too, when my toe caught on a root and only Charles' quick reflexes kept me from another fall - and actually made me jog part of the way back. I was worn out and wrung out from nerves and so sweaty I had to grab a quick bath before lunch - still no shower allowed, and Fraser insisted on helping me in and out, which felt kind of weird after what had happened the night before. John told me we'd be taking another walk in the afternoon. Actually, though, it had kind of felt good to move along - scary, yeah, especially the almost-fall, but I knew Charles and Fraser were right there, nothing worse than a stumble was going to happen.

John gave me the rundown on taking care of Niri and warned me to feed her in a separate room from Dief - sometimes Malamutes get kinda protective of their food, and Niri, he warned me, was a bottomless pit. We got her all fixed up and then went to town and got our own lunch at this hotel restaurant, which made me really self-conscious. I mean, I hadn't eaten out since the hostage thing, and I was still pretty clumsy at the table. And Inuvik was a small town, it wasn't like some Chicago restaurant where nobody knew who the idiot with food in his lap and all over his face was and would probably never see me again.

John told me that every blind person in the world had the same problems in restaurants, that he still sometimes flipped a pork chop off the table, and of course if Charles or somebody sighted wasn't with him, he'd have to have the server read the menu to him unless he was familiar with the place. But there were tricks, and he talked me through kind of exploring around my plate with the tip of my fork to find out where everything was, ordering finger food like fried chicken or already-cut-up things like stew, stir-fry or, today, chicken and dumplings if I was too nervous or self-conscious, using my roll to help push food on my fork (Thank God even Canadians do that!), tracing around the rim of my glass with a fingertip so I wouldn't get bonked in the face with the lemon slice when I drank, stuff like that, so it went okay.

After lunch John went through the house with me, starting with my bedroom. He had Fraser pull all my clothes out, and then I had to put them back up while John talked me through arranging them - of course I needed Fraser there to tell me what color everything was, but since these days I just wore jeans and shirts, it was pretty easy. Since everything I had was more or less mix and match that way, I didn't need to mark my clothes, but John explained different ways of doing that. He gave me a present for my bedroom, too - a talking clock for my nightstand. All I had to do was reach over and slap a button and it told me the time. He gave me a talking watch, too, that did the same thing.

"Good thing it says a.m. or p.m.," I joked. "Can't exactly look out the window."

John laughed.

"That wouldn't help you much if you could," he said. "Three months a year up here, it's either 24-hour day or 24-hour night."

We arranged the bathroom, too, so I knew where everything was, and Fraser promised to get me an electric razor so I could start shaving myself. The kitchen, of course, was the hardest part. We got started on it, rearranging and labeling stuff with - guess what? - that raised-letter click tape Fraser had already thought of, but it was too much to do in one day.

"How do you grocery shop?" I asked John.

"With a patient sighted person," John said. "Most grocery stores are glad to have someone help you, especially if you don't shop at their busiest times, and even more so when they get to know you. Small cities and towns like Inuvik are a real advantage there. If you aren't shopping with a sighted friend, though, who can come home with you and help you sort your groceries, you've got to remember to label your canned goods in the store as you shop. It takes a lot of time, but it'll save you my mistake - adding a can of peaches to your green bean casserole. Always label your canned goods."

And your fucking canisters, I thought, grinning. We used up a lot of label tape, labeled the stove dials and so on.

"This tape isn't quite as easily readable as Braille," John told me, "but it'll do for the time being. I've got an introductory Braille course for you, book and cassettes."

"Uh . . . I didn't figure I'd bother yet," I said. "I mean, since we don't know if this is permanent and all."

"Got something better to do?" John asked practically. "If you learn it and don't need it, so what? It's when you need it and didn't learn it that you end up sorry."

"Besides," Fraser pointed out, "you never know when such information may come in handy in the future. My father once broke up a smuggling ring - a known buyer was in the area, but he'd never seen the suspected leader of the ring meet with him. He broke the case when he realized that the two made a habit of dining in the same restaurant, and were passing information punched in Braille on the bills left on the table by the waiter, who was an accomplice."

I should've known Fraser would have a story for every occasion.

I was already tired from everything we'd done, but John insisted on another walk/jog. Charles said I was doing better, and we went farther. I ran into him, though, when he stopped real fast.

"What's the matter?" I said.

"Niri can't tell you that," he laughed. "You'll have to find out for yourself."

Turned out there was a fallen tree in the way, and I'd have tripped over it if Charles hadn't stopped.

"Good doggy," I said, patting Charles, which cracked us all up.

We went home and let Dief and Niri out to do their business - she's smart like Dief, doesn't need walking on a leash or anything - and I took another bath, my third for the day.

"When do I get to take a shower?" I asked Fraser when he helped me out. "And when can I wash my hair? It's getting disgusting from all the sweat and stuff."

"You need a haircut as well," Fraser told me. "I'll take you into town tomorrow, and the barber can wash around your stitches."

Fraser sounded funny, kind of wistful, and he sighed when I asked him about it.

"You don't gel your hair anymore and make it stand up in those spikes," he said. "I find I'd grown accustomed to the look."

I chuckled.

"Frase, it doesn't stand up 'cause it needs cutting. Once it's trimmed, it'll stand up no matter what. The gel was just for attitude."

Fraser and Charles fixed dinner, and John and I collapsed in the living room with the dogs. Niri apparently didn't mind being used as a pillow any more than Dief did. We were bonding, I guess.

"So . . . if I can ask the nosy question, and say 'none of your business' if I'm prying," I said, "but have you always been blind?"

"No, it's all right," John told me. "It's been about ten years now. I was an engineer in an alloy processing plant in Toronto. An overfilled vat of waste chemicals spilled over, and the splash caught me in the face. Here, give me your hand." He guided my fingers over slick scar tissue covering most of his face. "That's after a lot of reconstructive surgery, mind. I'm sure I still look a fright. Unfortunately there was no way to save my eyes."

Oh, wow. And I'd worried about food in my lap. This poor guy had been going out in public for years knowing that he had a face that would turn heads at the very least.

"Wow," I said quietly. "That's tough. Sorry, man."

"Yeah, well, there's always an up side," John said.

I couldn't imagine what in the world it might be, and said so.

"I wouldn't have been hurt if the plant hadn't been criminally careless with those chemicals," John said. "The lawsuit gave me the income to come up here and work with Charles and pursue my guide dog project. And if I hadn't come up here, I wouldn't have met my fiancee, Michelle - I'll have to introduce you sometime. Don't forget that, Ray. There's always an up side. If nothing else, it makes you appreciate how much more you could have lost."

I thought about that later that night, lying in bed, listening to Fraser in the bathroom, those weird colored flashing lights going off inside my eyelids. John was right. A hit like that on the head - I could have died, or been left a vegetable, or been paralyzed. I could have lost my memory or my wits. Okay, nobody wanted to be blind, but hey, I could walk and talk and think. I said as much to Fraser when he came in and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"That's a very positive assessment," Fraser said. "There's one other positive effect, however."

I grinned, knowing what he meant.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes." Warm brush of fingertips at my temple, sliding into my hair. Hesitation. "Shall I stay tonight?"

No hesitation from me, I'm here to tell you.

"Not just yes, but hell yes," I said, scooting over. I pulled back the covers for good measure, and Fraser slid in beside me. He was in boxers, from the feel of it, but I wore flannel pajamas, tops and bottoms, up here. Nights in Inuvik were cold, even in the early autumn.

"Ray . . . " Fraser moved over close, but not close. "I need you to understand that while my feelings for you are both strong and genuine, I think it best that we not pursue a more . . . physical expression of our relationship until you're more independent."

I snorted.

"What, you think I'm gonna confuse, like, gratitude and need for, um . . . " Nope, can't do it, too soon for the L word. "For a real relationship?"

"Well, not precisely, but - "

"Frase, I'm real, real grateful to Charles and John, not to mention Maggie and my mom and dad, and I've needed Dief and I'm gonna need Niri, but there ain't room in bed for all of 'em. Sounds like you're the one mixing things up. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate you taking care of me, but there's all kinds of people out there who could do that or have done that, and I don't want to sleep with any of 'em." I propped myself up on one elbow. "What about you? You think I'm not going to worry I'm getting a pity fuck?"

"Ray, there's no need to use that kind of language, and I already addressed the pity issue, I believe."

"Okay, then we're good." I lay back down. "I'm not in a hurry, I got no problem with waiting. I just want us clear on the 'why' part. We're just waiting till it feels right for both of us, is all."

Fraser moved closer, close enough to hold me, and that felt real good.

"You're right," he murmured into my hair. "That's a much better reason."

I didn't dream that night.

Next day Charles had things to do, so he just dropped John off at the house. We went on another fast walk in the morning, Fraser playing guide dog this time, then finished labeling stuff in the kitchen and pantry.

Then John and I made lunch, and even though it was nothing but venison burgers, soup and frozen vegetables, I'm here to tell you, that was really something. John took me through each step, from how to fry the burgers without burning the shit out of myself, how to open a can without slicing my fingers on the lid, how some olive oil and balsamic vinegar makes frozen veggies taste really fantastic, how blind people fish pickle slices out of a jar and only put enough mustard and ketchup on a burger - oh, yeah, and how to grind and percolate coffee.

To hear Fraser praise the food, you'd think we'd made chateaubriand or something. He even drank some coffee.

After lunch another walk, but this time John showed me how to put Niri in her harness and I did my first trip with a real guide dog. It helped that I was on a trail we'd already walked three times already. Niri was great - actually, I think she was better at steering me around fallen branches and protruding roots and things than Charles was, and hey, she didn't nag at me to go faster, faster, faster.

Although John did.

Next time, John told me, we'd walk in town and he'd bring his guide dog, Windsor, and I'd start learning my way around Inuvik.

I was worn out again, but after we dropped John off at his house, Fraser took me to the barber's like he promised. Ed Reinert washed and trimmed my hair - felt wonderful to lose all that extra - and when I asked him, he helped me figure out how to do the gel thing by touch instead of in a mirror. I was pretty pleased with myself when I got it right.

Fraser was real quiet, and when I was done I looked around - well, okay, I didn't look, but I turned my head around, listening for him.

"Frase? You there?"

"Yes, Ray." Quiet voice.

"Something wrong?"

"No, Ray." Stronger. "It's only - you look like yourself again - your hair, the way you smiled when you got it right."

For just a second I felt this stab of pain, wishing I could see the expression on his face. Well, what the hell, it wasn't as if I didn't wish I could see something a million times a day. I grinned.

"Well, from the sound of your voice, that's a good thing," I said.

"It's a good thing," Fraser said quietly. I heard the crinkle of money, imagined Fraser's smile as he paid the barber. A big warm hand took my hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm. "A very good thing."

I think Fraser was probably as worn out as I was, so we stopped at another restaurant - Pizza Hut, can you believe it? - for dinner, then went home, lit a fire in the fireplace, gave the dogs each a piece of leftover pizza, and collapsed on the floor with Niri and Dief. I draped my legs over Niri and laid my head on Fraser's stomach - I think he was using Dief for a pillow - and enjoyed the heat from the fire. We talked about the day for a little while, and Fraser promised to label all my CD's and get a talking remote for the TV so at least I could listen to the shows. I mean, who watches the news anyway? And as I sat there, thinking about it . . . quietly, just quietly it sank in.

"Fraser?" I said, right in the middle of his plan for a computer with adaptive software. Man, my voice sounded small, but Fraser stopped right away.

"Yes, Ray?"

"I'm blind, Fraser."

Very softly, "I know, Ray."

Okay, I leaked on his shirt for a while, but I didn't get all hysterical or anything. And thank God Fraser didn't make a big fuss out of it, just softly stroked my hair and let me work it out. Niri got worried, though, squirmed out from under my legs and came up to lick off my face, which is enough to make anybody stop crying and start laughing. And then it was okay for Fraser to wrap me up in his arms, and it was okay for me to hug back, too, because now it wasn't about comforting and weakness, now it was just about loving, and that was okay.

I guess we must have conked out there in front of the fireplace, because when I woke up, we were still on the hard living room floor, only there was no heat coming from the fireplace now. I probably would've been cold except I was lying on my side, Fraser glued to my back, one arm under my head and the other wrapped around me, Niri cuddled against my front, and Dief lying on my feet.

Now, that's a lot of love for one blind guy.

There's a time to get up and go to bed . . . and a time to just lie there, soak it up and enjoy it.

I went back to sleep.

I woke to the smell of coffee, hotcakes and sausage. I was still on the living room floor, but now I was cuddled between Dief and Niri. I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, and followed my nose to the kitchen.

"Ah, good morning, Ray," Fraser said. "Your timing is perfect."

So were the pancakes.

We picked up John and Windsor and walked around Inuvik a bit. People called out greetings - sometimes to John, sometimes to Fraser (I guess they remembered him here), sometimes to both. They both introduced me to whoever, and I tried to wave in the right direction. I felt really, really awkward until I remembered that John was blind and disfigured. Hell, if he could do it, I could do it.

Fraser took us to the RCMP station to meet Maggie for lunch. We met the five other Mounties who were there in the station at the time - Maggie told me there were thirteen Mounties in the detachment, plus a couple of support staff, but that detachment served not only Inuvik, but the whole region, so there were usually only a few Mounties at the station at any one time. Fraser and John "showed" me around the station - since Maggie was working there, and since, who knows, Fraser might take a temporary assignment there, it was a good thing for me to know my way around the place. Maggie walked with us on the rest of our town tour, and we invited her over for dinner. I helped Fraser cook.

Okay, so I peeled potatoes and managed to slice my thumb with the vegetable peeler. Look, I wasn't a gourmet chef even before I went blind, okay? It's like the old joke: Hey, Doctor, will I ever play the violin again? Yes, of course. Oh, good, 'cause I never could play it before.

The next couple weeks were busy. Niri and I walked around Inuvik with John and Charles and Fraser, or John and Fraser, or just John, and finally just me and Niri (although I have a sneaking suspicion that Fraser was tailing me the whole time). Good thing about a town with a total population of 3,500 - traffic's not a big danger even at what passes for rush hour. Of course my first solo trip scared me shitless, and I got lost twice and had to ask for directions, but after that I went out more, down to the drugstore or the grocery or to the RCMP station. I asked John once why he'd had me solo in town, not on the walking trail we'd used first - it seemed like an easier first step. John had chuckled and reminded me of Canadian wildlife, some of it dangerous. Fraser pointed out that it wasn't real smart for even a sighted person to walk around the woods alone and unarmed, and while Niri would probably do her utmost to defend me against anything, she'd probably get hurt doing it.

Not to mention, it's pretty damned hard to ask a moose for directions if you get turned around. Although I wouldn't put it past Fraser.

Mom and Dad kept calling, when was I coming home. I wasn't really in any hurry. I was feeling good, actually - better than I had since I got my fool head smashed in. I was getting around okay, doing things for myself, even making a few friends around town, and after a lot of urging from me, Fraser was going back to work the next week. He'd pulled enough strings just getting this temporary assignment and bringing me up here - I didn't want him losing pay or hurting his career, too.

Fraser flew with me down to Yellowknife for my next round of neurological tests. The doc said my skull had knit back pretty good and the swelling around my oxtail-whatever lobe had gone down some, but it still wasn't back to normal. But since I was still progressing, the insurance company still wouldn't classify me permanently disabled, which cut me out of a lot of benefits and programs. That bugged me, 'cause I knew Fraser was paying for a lot of special stuff for me - like the Braille stuff John had brought over, the computer with the adaptive software that Fraser had just set up for me, things like that. When I tried to get Fraser to tell me how much he'd spent, he just told me not to worry about it. Hell, the only way I'd gotten him to take money for half the house rent, groceries and dog supplies was by saying that if my only choice was to be a blind guy mooching off his friend, I'd go back to Mom and Dad's.

Anyway, so I was improving - a little - but it didn't seem to be doing me any good on the vision front. Or the insurance front.

Sometimes hope sucks.

The first week of Fraser working was pretty tough. I felt scared and insecure and mostly just sat around doing nothing, too nervous to work on the Braille stuff or get on the computer or anything. Which was probably a good thing, because Fraser was as nervous as I was - he called home probably a dozen times that first day, asking how I was doing, did I need anything, should he come home, did I eat, take my meds, you name it. The day I finally got up my nerve to take Niri out and walk a ways - just around the block, I was too scared to go any further - Fraser called while I was gone, panicked when I didn't answer the phone, and came tearing home. That little episode resulted in a whole lot of kissing and cuddling, a scolding from Fraser's boss at the station, and a cell phone for me. And John just about laughed his head off when he heard about it.

After the first week it was easier. I felt safer walking around with the cell phone in my pocket. I took John's advice and always walked in town, never on the forest trail unless there was a sighted person with me. Sometimes Charles dropped John off and we spent the day together; sometimes Fraser took me over to Charles and John's house and I spent the day there. That was cool; John had all sorts of adaptive stuff, from tags on his clothes to a talking kitchen timer. I met Charles' dogs and even helped out some, feeding and brushing and stuff like that, even bathing and brushing dogs' teeth - no nail trimming, though. It was pretty cool, the stuff I could do without being able to see.

Maggie had different hours and days off than Fraser did, and we spent a lot of time together too. I even met some other people in town, including John's fiancee, Michelle, who was a wildlife biologist. She'd met John while she was up here studying two wolf packs in the general area, and she'd decided to stay, got a position with the Northwest Territories' wildlife and fisheries agency or bureau or whatever. Now she handled fishing and hunting licenses and enforcement in Inuvik (with a lot of RCMP help on the enforcement end of it), also did stuff like tagging and tracking migratory patterns and so on, and helped out handling crazy situations like, "Hey, I've got a rutting moose in my driveway humping my car."

You think I made that one up? Nope. Michelle could tell stories that would have all of us rolling on the floor laughing till we nearly puked. Including Fraser. I'd have paid big bucks to see him cut loose like that.

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